


Stay With Me

by Arrison



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Captain America: The First Avenger, Kissing, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrison/pseuds/Arrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rather than discuss his feelings, Bucky went with the more preferable option of enlisting into the American Army and being shot at instead. So when circumstances brought him back to the matter he'd been avoiding, he continued to respond like any rational adult would... With alcohol and bitterness.</p>
<p>(Commences in the bar in London where Steve enlists his Howling Commandos)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

“Don’t take it so hard. Maybe she’s got a friend.”

“Yeah.” A mirthless chuckle punctuates the agreement, and Bucky dips his head away to the side as he returns to his stool. “Maybe.” He adds in a dark mutter, scooping up his glass of scotch and knocking back the dregs. With a dull clunk, he places the glass back on the counter and waves down the bartender with a flick of two fingers, pointing them down to the drink.

“Sure that’s wise, Buck?” Steve questions beside him with an attempt at a wry, smooth tone that doesn’t completely mask the soft concern beneath. Bucky simply scoffs, eyes rolling slightly.

“Yeah, ma, I’m sure.” He drawls, overemphasising his thick accent and drawing himself up, rolling his shoulders back as the bartender moves to his glass. “In fact; make it a double.”

The bartender doesn’t look at him, but solemnly nods.

“Well, in that case.” Steve lightly slaps his hands down on the counter, bent over it with his warm smile tugging in the side of his lips. “I’ll have a double too. Thanks.” He adds before straightening himself; smile fixed in place but eyes flicking aside to Bucky. The brunette simply huffs in a laugh.

“You gonna abandon a perfectly good beer?” He questions, turning to look with chin titled high and eyes narrow and considered as he regards Steve, then nods to the drink in question. He is simply met with a casual shrug of a shoulder; head dipping into the movement and grin widening.

“I’ll get to it.” He says, taking the additional double silently poured by the bartender; the man now waddling away. “Not like we’re goin’ anywhere.” There’s another huff and a momentary flick of the eyebrows from Bucky. The drink is in hand, already being raised.

“Ya ain’t wrong.” An almost imperceptible murmur to his drink. He takes a draught and puts it back down. Steve arches an eyebrow, bodily turning further toward Bucky.

“I was gonn’ propose a toast.” The drink idles in his hand, propped up mid-air. There’s a sharp bark of laughter and a screech of stool against floor as Bucky turns to properly face him.

“Were you now?” Smiling; sharp, lopsided, and not reaching his eyes. “And what-” He jabs his fingers against the counter, punctuating the words with a dull thud. “Were we going to toast, hm?” Eyes widening further, almost manic. Steve’s face drops, brow furrowed softly and and lips twitching down.

A pause.

“... I’m glad you’re back, Buck.” Steve admits quietly, eyes fixed on the man. Bucky’s eyes close, a measured pace, before the lines around them furrow; scrunching up. A mental retreat. All traces of the caustic grin gone. He slowly reopens his eyes, face still taut and a tight little smile forced upon his lips.

“Thanks.” He concedes, hand swooping in to pick up his drink and clink it against Steve’s before it can be retracted. Then instantly brought to his lips in a heavy knock back and a cringe. “I’m, uh.” Click of his tongue and head turns back to look off toward the middle-distance of the bar. “I’m glad to be back too. Of course.” Another sip. Glass still nearby his lips in preparation.

“Bucky...” Steve’s soft blue gaze flicks over him; desperately seeking. His drink is limp in his hand, almost threatening to spill onto the bar counter.

“‘Srude not to drink to the toast.” A mumbled observation and another deep draught of his own drink. Steve brings the drink back up, level, looking over the thin line of his lips in the amber reflection. He takes the obligatory sip, then reverses his process; looking to his reflection, then back to Bucky. He transfers the glass to his outer hand; the inner reaching for Bucky’s shoulder.

“If you wanna tal-”

“No.” The swift shutdown stills the approaching hand, which hovers in the air before Steve slowly brings it back to his side, defeated. Bucky just sips his drink, and Steve sits there watching him in pained silence.

A crash of glass and cheers of triumph from the adjacent room pull Steve from his thoughts.

“I’ll, uh, be back in a sec.” Steve leaves his glass, clambering out of his chair and ducking through to the next room.

Bucky doesn’t bother to respond.

He just takes another drawn out gulp; polishing off his drink and half-placing, half-sliding the glass onto the counter with a rattle. He doesn’t see the bartender come to fill up the glass again. Just notices that he has another drink once he’s already reached across and taken Steve’s.

And that is fine by him.

There is no appreciation for the scotch as he swallows it down. He just holds the glass to his lips. Takes a draught. Stems the flow with his lips. Throat bobs with a swallow. A moment to brace against the sting of the alcohol. Another sip. Stop again. Swallow down. Shivering brace. 

Sip. Stop. Swallow. Shiver.  
Sip. Stop. Swallow. Shiver.  
Sip. Stop. Swallow. Shiver.

First Steve’s scotch. 

Then his own.

Screw it.

Steve’s beer too.

Enough time passes between the empty of the first glass of scotch and the finishing of the beer for Bucky to know, even in his quickly declining state, that the barkeeper is not returning with a refill. So with a sharp clatter of his stool against the tiles, he picks himself up, shrugs his jacket further around himself, and makes his slightly wobbly escape to the back exit of the pub.

He is buffeted with wind as he opens out the door, and he pulls his jacket further around himself with one hand; slipping out and closing the pub door to the crisp, cold with the other. It’s not as cold as the winters back home, he thinks, as he walks into the night. But he could chalk that down to a number of things. The insulated, army issue jacket. The warm buzz coursing through his body.

The flush he feels across his cheeks as memories float to the surface.

The edge of his shoe jars in between two lines of cobblestones.

“Bloody London.” He grumbles as he regains balance, hopping up onto the pavement lining the road with a wince. His foot wobbles a little extra in its stride, and he runs a hand over his throat; dryly clearing. He can feel the scotch already doing a number on his stomach. Or his liver. He’s not sure. It just hurts.

“Just hurts.” He bitterly mumbles in a self-deprecating. That’s what he’d said. _Just hurts._ Looked up at him with those big doe eyes. Flicking over him in that way that if he searched hard enough, the reason might present itself. Not that it was difficult to explain away. Guys were practically tripping over themselves to enlist, even if they didn’t have a chance. As the defiant little blonde in front of him had proven.

Bucky hadn’t though.

Someone had to keep an eye on things while everyone was overseas, didn’t they? Or why should he go there when all the pretty dames were over here? Or who in their right mind would much fancy being shot at, let alone regularly? He had a line up of excuses to pick from, but Steve stopped asking the more time they spent together.

“Bucky!”

Even if he didn’t know that voice, who else could it be? He continues to slightly hobble, somewhat wobble, and generally make his way through the night, the hotel just across the way.

“Hey.” Steve is beside him in what seems like an instant; all smiles and brightness. “You just took off?”

“You’re not outta breath.” It’s a quiet observation, but one that earns him a bright laugh. He ducks his head slightly away again, away from Steve. “Not even puffed.” 

“I guess not.” The blonde replies simply, rolling back his shoulders and stuffing his hands into his pockets. His eyes stray starward, then flick over to Bucky, over his foot. “And what ‘bout you?”

“What about me?” He drawls lightly, flicking a practiced curl of a smile in the side of his lips. “I’m just making my way back to my bed.” They step onto the pavement and through the doors of the hotel on the corner. Steve doesn’t reply.

“What? They bunk you down here too?” Bucky questions as they walk across the foyer; Steve casually meeting Bucky’s stilted pace. The brunette huffs, pausing at the bottom of the stairs and regarding them coldly.

“Unnecessary.” He tones blandly, inhaling deeply; already feeling a throb in his foot.

He steps forward, but his boot never meets the first step. His over foot raising into the air. Without a word, Steve has folded himself to Bucky’s side, curling his arms around his back and shoulder; drawing him up to his now-broad chest.

“Necessary.” He rebukes playfully with a smile. Bucky’s cheeks flush, deeply. Steve simply chuckles. “You really had a bit to drink, didn’t you?” He observes in all sincerity.

“Mm.” The simple hum is all Bucky offers as way of reply, looking dead ahead as the stairs are traversed with ease. He flicks his gaze up at Steve for a moment; the man focused ahead, but light playing in his eyes and that undeterred smile on his lips. “Room 706.” Bucky quietly offers, fishing the key from his pocket and intently looking at the room number on the attached leather fob as they continue upward. Silently ascending the dimly lit stairs in Steve’s arms; resisting the urge to curl inward toward him.

“Bucky?” It’s a quiet prompt. He looks up. and Steve nods in front of him. Room 706.

“Ah.” He fumbles the key into its lock, twisting in Steve’s arms to properly unlock and open the door. He plucks the key out once the door is opened slightly, with Steve pushing it open with his foot.

It’s a small room. Predominantly taken up by a perfectly average bed. There’s a radio and lamp on the bedside table. Wardrobe and a small sink and mirror flanking the door. A window running flush to the bed’s headboard.

Steve sits him down on the end of the bed, and begins to busy himself about the room. Closing the door. Flicking on the lamp and the radio. It’s poor quality, but beyond the muffle the sounds of a small brass band strike up, underscored by piano and bass.

Bucky’s attention has drifted off, but snaps back as soon as Steve is kneeling in front of him.

“What… What are you doing?” A rising edge to his voice, but the question is answered as Steve gently plucks apart the laces of his boots.

“Not the first time I’ve helped you after a big night.” Steve looks up to him with a bright, cheerful smile as he slips off the first boot, followed by the sock. The sore foot. He appraises it silently, before moving onto the other foot. “Should be fine.” He lightly observes.

“Thanks Doc. Though I feel pretty sober” Bucky mutters, eyes flicking to a corner of the room before coming back to Steve. His smile grows into a grin.

“Captain, actually.” He corrects, slipping off the other boot and sock, then surging upward without a word. Bucky leans back, sharply inhaling; Steve crowding into his space.

“Steve, no…” He mumbles, no resolution in his tone.

“Not gonna sleep in your uniform, are you?” Steve questions in amusement, hands maneuvering Bucky’s arms and slipping under his coat to draw it off him. “You’ll be comfier in your singlet and briefs.” He assures.

“Steve.” It’s a whine, hands gripping against the tight bedsheet underneath him. Steve’s hands have already moved to the buttons of his shirt, making quick work of them.

“You can get your shut-eye in a sec, Bucky. Nearly there.” He unbuttons the final one, slipping the shirt of him with ease. But when his hands move to the buckle of Bucky’s pants, the brunette jerks forward, his hands instantly over Steve’s.

“No. No, I…” His tone brokers no argument, but then his voice quavers. “I can’t, Steve.”

Another pause.

Steve slowly slips his hands back from Bucky’s; eyes intently on his the entire time. His palms come to rest on the other man’s thighs, just above his knees. That sorrowful little etch of his brow back on his face.

“... What’s wrong, Bucky?” He slowly sinks back onto his haunches. “All night you’ve… Please. Talk to me?” A desperate plea.

The silence stretches out and Bucky troubles at his lip. Face scrunching up, eyes closed.

“I can’t do it.” He whispers.

“Can’t do what?” Steve prompts, giving a light squeeze of his hand. Bucky feels his chest seize up.

“This.” He quietly, bluntly replies. “I can’t… I left, Steve.” He slowly opens his eyes, looking slightly down at Steve; a sad smile tugging replacing his usual warm one.

“I know. I know you did, Buck.” Steve acknowledges, a slight shimmer in his eyes. “But you’re here now. We’re together again.”

“Don’t say that.” There’s an inadvertent shake of his head and each word is drawn out.

“Why not?” Confusion replacing sadness.

Bucky doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the fact that he wants to put the matter to rest, as no Nazi or Hydra soldier did it to him. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the fact you can only carry a torch for so long before the heat becomes too intense to bear. He doesn’t know. But he blurts out:

“Because we can’t be together, can we?” To Bucky, it’s not really a question. But Steve lightly frowns, cocking his head to the side.

“What d’you mean, Buck? We’re together now, you’ll be in the commandos, it’s-”

“It’s not…” He loudly interrupts, voice filling the room before abating. The bed sheet scrunches up under his grip. “... It’s not what I mean.”

“Then tell me. I’m not going anywhere. You know I’ll listen.” Urging, reassuring, eyes bright and pained and confused and Bucky sighs. The room lapses into near silence, with the radio lightly falls into a patch of static in the background. Seconds ebb into minutes. The muscles in Bucky’s jaw bunch and he looks aside to the wall.

“... I’m so sorry, Steve.” His voice breaks, chin quivering. “But I… I’m in love with you. We had a perfectly good, great, friendship, and I screwed it all up by falling for you.” He sniffs and the back of his throat stings. He closes his eyes and feels the dampening of his eyelashes and Steve’s silence rumbles like silence. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. Everything hangs still in a moment of time he cannot fathom, before Steve whispers.

“How… How long have you…” He trails off, and Bucky scoffs at himself, venomous.

“A week before I enlisted.”

Steve draws breath, loudly, both hands squeezing.

“You joined the army because you fell in love with me?” Tone full of pain and disbelief.

Bucky simply nods, a tear slipping from his eyes as he opens them and meandering down his cheek.

“Y-Yeah.”

“But why?” Steve asks strained, eyes sweeping and wide.

“It just… Just hurt.” Bucky concedes. “Just hurt too damned much. To know that I could never have you. Never be with you the way I wanted to be with you. Never touch you the way I wanted to touch you. I… I couldn’t bear it.”

“Bucky…” With a shift of his body, Steve raises himself from his kneel, settling closer to him as he brings himself level of the brunette. “Hey.” Soft and curious, he reaches forward and fingers brush over Bucky’s cheek, a thumb at his chin. A gentle tug to bring Bucky’s gaze to his.

Now Bucky can see it. Steve’s eyes swimming, shimmering with the threat of tears too. A smile that he never thought he’d see again. Then he leans forward, hesitant and cautious, hand drawing back and cupping at Bucky’s ear and jaw as he bends in, brushing a light, chaste kiss on his lips.

“Steve?” He feels like he’s waking up on the table again. Uncertain as to all else except the man in front of him. The man who is opening up his own eyes from the kiss and shedding a tear of his own.

“I’d written off any chance of you and me so long ago.” He admits with a turned down gaze, long and drawn out.

“... You love her now instead, don’t you?” Bucky asks as neutrally as he can muster, lips drawing back in and thinning across his face.

“I never stopped loving you, Bucky. Just learnt to live without you.” He looks back up, finally meeting Bucky’s gaze again, swallowing thickly. “But maybe… Maybe we have a chance?”

Chance is a funny thing, Bucky thinks. Likely, he should’ve been shot during the war by now, but he lived. At the very least, killed as another prisoner of war in the Hydra base. But he survived. And he could’ve lost Steve to his confessions of love, but here he was before him; admitting that he loved him and that he was willing to give them a chance. He doesn’t know what to think of luck. Whether someone is just ‘lucky’. Whether it runs out. How the universe works.

But he doesn’t care.

He pushes forward, hands sliding off the bed and rounding over Steve’s shoulders as he slides forward and desperately kisses Steve. Languid and open-mouthed. Warm breath mingling with warm breath as he rolls his jaw in another kiss, and then another. Steve’s hand on the back of his head, gripping and angling, needily pressing him deeper into the act. His tongue slipping through his lips and tip grazing against tip as he keeps them locked in a heady, breathless kiss. Bucky moans into his mouth and feels the tug of Steve’s arm around his middle. Slowly feels himself falling back under the dip of Steve’s body, who presses them back against; breaking their lips apart for just a moment before they reconnect; mouth lazily pushing into mouth.

Steve all but crawls and carries Bucky along the spread of the bed. Wriggling and inching and writhing into Bucky as he uses the hand from his hair to bring them further along the sheets, the other hand still tugging him close. Dragging Bucky just above the bed before reaching the limited pull of his hand before he grinds his hips into the brunette to readjust and re-extend his hand. Eliciting a litany of needy moans and whimpers from just beneath him. Finally settling Bucky back against his pillows and pulling back from the kiss; hands pressed on his chest, legs straddling his hips.

“Steve…” He moans out, arching his hips up into the other man. He simply smiles; feeding the belt of his coat out of its buckle and flicking the four buttons undone. Dumping the garment unceremoniously on the floor. Then he loosens his tie with a jerk of his hand, all the while watching Bucky with hooded eyes, who simply bites down on his lips as he watches the show. Which properly begins once the tie is out of the way and the shirt begins to come undone.

“You’re about to be overdressed.” Steve all but purrs, eyes flicking over Bucky’s singleted torso and belted pants. Bucky smirks, propping himself onto his elbows, tightening his muscles, and plucking the singlet up and off in one fluid motion. He falls back against the bed with a jostle.

“Better?” Bucky questions mischievously, eyes dancing and hungry. Steve’s arms angle up; elbows pointed to the ceiling and biceps straining as he grips the back of his own singlet, pulling it up and off. Sinking into Bucky’s hips. He tosses it down into the pile of clothes.

“Nearly.” His voice is heavier now, almost darker, Bucky thinks. “Do you have…” Bucky’s hand is already clambering for the beside table, flicking out the drawer to reveal a little stash of condoms and a jar of slick. Steve can’t help but smirk; placing his hands on either side of Bucky’s head and pressing down, before hoisting the rest of the body smoothly off of the man and to a stand at the side of the bed. Bucky gasps lightly, reflexive, missing the weight of Steve’s body. But he doesn’t waste time. There’s a jangle of his belt as he unclasps it, and he tugs down his briefs and pants to his knees, before curling his legs up closer to himself to push them down further before kicking them off at the ankles.

Then Steve is back on top of him; sans pants and briefs too. He grinds himself slothfully against Bucky’s rigid cock; a deep rumble of pleasure in the back of his throat as he places the open slick on a patch of free bed. Dips his fingers into the jar and lathes them.

“If it hurts…” Steve murmurs, looking to Bucky softly, who simply nods. Steve pauses, then reaches back; free hand gripping around Bucky’s leg and levering it up onto his shoulder. His eyes trace over the twist of Bucky’s torso, hand still on the leg, as one slick finger prods at Bucky. Only pushing into after a few teasing pokes around him, enjoying the muffled sounds of Bucky’s moans, before he finally lets loose an aroused groan as Steve’s finger slips into him. Working inside of him, causing Bucky’s cock to jerk with the stimulation. Twitching against his stomach.

Steve continues working him, with just the one finger. Then a second. And finally a third. Taking delight in the steadily increasing volume and breathlessness of the man beneath him. But with a misplaced reluctance, he tentatively draws the fingers back, popping out of him.

“Steve… Steve, please…” Bucky babbles, and Steve can’t help but lightly chuckle under his breath; scooping a generous amount of slick into his hand and drawing it along his cock, groaning out loudly and cheeks flushing.

“Hang on, Buck…:” He reassures, soothing. He lowers down Bucky’s leg, pushing the foot toward the man’s body. Does the same with his slippery hand, before curling his hands under Bucky’s knees and drawing him forward; gently sinking Bucky down onto his cock.

Bucky’s back arches high, drawing in a deep, silent breath as Steve fills up into him. Clutches at the sheets once again with his eyes wanting desperately to roll back into his head. Steve slowly fills into him, then pauses. Uncurls his hands. Bends himself over Bucky; body and presence crowding him. A hand grasping Bucky’s cock. Sloppily kisses him. Then smiles at him, full-blown.

“Ready.”

The moan-punctuated nod serves as answer enough, and he slowly rocks his hips into him, simultaneously stroking down his cock. Then pulls back his hips, pulling back the hand to the head, thumbing the damp tip. A slow but steady build up, matching the lethargy of his kisses; open mouthed to catch all the moans and whines of Bucky beneath him. Sinking down into Bucky with his hand curling down, before pulling back and stroking up in a repeated, measured movement.

“F-Faster.” Bucky stammers. Steve complies all too willingly, moving into a steady pace. The two blushing deeply, moaning loudly, rolling their hips into one another. Bucky’s arms are over Steve’s shoulders again, tugging needily. Head tilted back to let fly louder, incoherent vocalisations. Steve presses kisses into his jaw and his neck and wherever his lips find purchase as he thrusts, long and drawn out into Bucky. Near breathless and groaning into Bucky’s skin. 

“Bucky…” He groans deeply, the thrusts of his cock becoming shallow with their rapidness. He jerks quickly around Bucky, hand matching; his free hand nestling into brown locks and pulling back his head. Mouth and teeth grazing along the line of his neck before bringing him hungrily back to his mouth. Strokes and thursts deepening again. Pressing as far as he is able into him. Feeling a tightening in his crotch and a throbbing in his hand. Deep, low, thrusts that are drowned out by the sounds of their intermingled moans and groans and cries and need. 

“Steve!” Bucky cries out, and the blonde’s hips snap into him, pulling his orgasm from him, before a few more leave him sinking his own orgasm deep into Bucky. Crying out loudly, body seized up and tense bar their pulsing cocks.

Then it slowly abates.

Slowly untenses.

Muscles uncoiling

And Steve is above Bucky, who has dropped back onto the bed completely, looking up at Steve with a drowsy, dopey grin.

A similar one plastered on Steve’s face.

The jar of slick long since having tumbled onto the floor.

Steve softly kisses him, carefully pulling out of him.

“Steve… Steve.” It’s all Bucky can manage, as he reaches up and paws incredulously at his face, hand cupping along his jaw. Steve takes the hand in his; flopping down beside Bucky on the bed and tugging at Bucky with his hand. Who obliges, nestling into Steve with a contented sigh.

“I know.” Steve murmurs, placing a light kiss behind his ear, before the two quietly drift off to the sounds of their muted radio.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the first piece I have uploaded onto Ao3, so any and all feedback/comments would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
